Three Pudding Cups
by Themis56
Summary: Three different short non-drabble views of Milly from three people she loves. Anime verse. Introspective. Now with a bonus chapter!
1. Banana: Vash

Three Pudding Cups

by Themis56

VASH

When they first started--well, I'd like to say stalking me but it really wasn't quite as creepy as that--ah, 'containing' me, they were both pretty big pains. At the time it was just a matter of deciding which one was more annoying. On one hand, Meryl was diligent, keen, and kept a distance I was comfortable with; Milly liked to chatter about nothing in particular all the time and, I swear, every time we hit a new town she'd demand we find the first pudding shop even though donuts always take dibs. But then, on the other hand, the short girl had a habit of bossing me around and hitting me--_hard--_whereas the Big Girl was sweet-tempered and cheerful. Nothing got her down. Her partner could take some pointers from her about being nice to lovable guys like me.

But after being with them so long, I'm used to them and found out that neither of them are really so bad. They're both good girls underneath their annoying habits. I owe them my life about one or two times over.

Milly is easier to get along with, though. Much easier.

That girl makes me wonder sometimes.

I usually can read people so easy, what their hearts are hiding, and I know for certain that Milly is sweet and good and can be like that forever if you don't touch on her one or two hot spots. Ha--buy that girl a pudding and you have a friend for life. But all the rest of us know that by now, don't we? But beyond that? I just don't know. I'm surprised I can't figure it out. Oh, I suppose not even I can really know a person from head to toe, know everything they're thinking, but I can usually get a good impression of what they think. I can't do that so well with Milly.

It's her simplicity that gets me. Her eyes are so calm and untroubled. Not haunted at all. At first glance they seem almost blank, but then I get a glimpse of something underneath and I realize how smart she can be. I don't think she knows, though, or else she's _too _smart to notice it. Her observations are always so low-key, just passing mentions, like she's above them or something. She never dwells on them either.

Dammit. How much does she know anyway?

Come to think of it, Milly doesn't chatter all the time. She only does it when nobody's spoken for a while or else there's been an argument, doubtless erupting between a permutation of me or Meryl or Wolfwood, and the rest of us are uncomfortable and the mood needs to be diffused. Then she steps in, chatting most likely about her huge family at home. Sometimes I think half of Gunsmoke is related to her. So she's chatty when nobody else is. But when any of the rest of us start talking, she gets quiet; she does that more and more now. Just closes her eyes in that serene look and steps back. Either she's listening very intently or just spacing out and what she knows is all subconscious--or maybe both. But if she is listening, shouldn't she be more concerned? Meryl certainly always freaks out when something comes up and then, woo, she never lets me hear the end of it. I've got the bumps on my head to prove it.

Still, sometimes I see her face cloud up when she thinks the rest of us aren't looking, her lip puckers in thought and her eyes aren't so serene like she's trying to figure something out but something always stops her from hitting the mark. I'm glad for that; she'd be in danger if she learned too much, went too deep. I have to be real careful around her, though, to keep her safe (and probably because she'd tell Meryl and that means the yelling and the fists and oh God and that'd be another person I care about in danger). I try not to say anything too important when Milly's there unless it's a full-blown emergency. And when I do break bad news or say something personal, she doesn't seem surprised at all. Sad and afraid, yeah, but never surprised.

But this is the important thing: she'd never kill anyone. Not on purpose. I mean, she carries a non-lethal weapon for God's sake, that's almost begging for death in this world of killer bullets. And I know she makes an effort not to hit people in the face with her stunners either. That's kind of her. And I know she doesn't have the heart to kill in her either. To kill someone you have to have something of a beast, a monster in you, thoughtless and cold even if it's just for the second to pull that trigger with the intent to kill. Milly doesn't have it in her. I sure as hell know Wolfwood's killed and probably will kill again when I'm not around and Meryl--I know she's not bloodthirsty at all and hasn't killed anyone yet but I know if it comes down to the wire she'll pull the trigger too. 

Milly won't. She can't. She defends, whether it's people or pudding, and does her best not to get sucked in.

She has lots of love in her. Just like Rem did. And she doesn't even talk about it much, like it's no big deal. Her voice is sweet and I wonder sometimes if she could sing like Rem could. On occasion when we're riding in the dark I look back and her hair is black and it almost makes me want to cry. But then in the day it's Meryl with the black hair and it's she who's getting more and more like Rem with time, especially now since she's gotten so much calmer and we talk more, fight less. Milly never needs to say anything.

She understood from the start.

__

Trigun is copyright of Yasuhiro Nightow, Pioneer, and whoever else. I don't own it.

I don't have much experience writing Vash introspection; I hope he was somewhat in character. Next: Meryl!


	2. Vanilla: Meryl

I think I'm even worse at Meryl than I am at Vash…oy.

Oh yes, and thanks to Sunoko for the suggestions on the Vash piece. I went back and altered it a little so hopefully it flows better. Thanks for pointing that out!

One more to go! Can you guess who it'll be? Guess right to win a prize! The prize being a can of pudding to the face! ::SPLAT::

MERYL

I remember the first day she came to the Bernardelli main office. Obviously she had no clue about what to do there or how things worked. But what topped it all off was her clothing. A faded old men's long sleeve shirt and _jeans? _Thatscreamed 'farm girl' from the get go. She might as well have had a piece of straw stuck in her teeth to complete the image. I still don't understand how she managed to convince the Boss to hire her in the first place, not in that getup. And then she wore those things for the first three days of work straight because she was too tall for any of the handy regulation-issued uniforms and they needed to call in a tailor to customize one for her. Even then it didn't seem to fit her well.

All this gave the office gossips plenty to chew on. I hated it. They were so nice to Milly's face, welcoming her like the newbie she was and smiling kindly, offering help; and after she left they'd all laugh at her. Lots and lots of cracker jokes. I never joined in, though I never really said anything against it either. I think Karen and I were the only ones who didn't participate.

One day she came in on the trolls while they made fun of her clothes, her perky voice, her naïveté. All her child-like ways. I remember the big fat tears that welled up in her eyes as she turned away. I couldn't bear it and I yelled bloody murder at everyone until they were all cowering under something. Nobody can shout me down, I'm proud to say. Next, I stomped out to look for her. I found her in the company locker room just sobbing her heart out and trying to scarf down a pudding at the same time. Her nose was all snotty and her face a mess so I gave her a hanky. Before I knew it, I had my first full-time partner.

Don't you love how these things come about?

In spite of everything Milly's a surprisingly competent partner. She can't run the typewriter into the ground like I can but she can add numbers fairly well and isn't too fazed by the mounds of paperwork we pile up following that spiky-headed bozo.

Still, I thought it odd that we were assigned as partners--Milly's good but there are more capable people in the office. In fact, I didn't even want her on this assignment, yet she insisted and cried and begged until I had to give in.

Recently I realized how wise that decision was.

Milly's a great defense. She's so tall and carries that ungodly stun gun with such ease that men rarely ever bother us; even if they do then it's just a matter of a good kick to the crotch and a showing of steel to send them running. Aside from the physical aspect of it, she also keeps me sane. She doesn't get bogged down in the details like I tend to do, gets a feel for the situation. She always tells me that it's going to be okay. That little mistakes here and there won't kill us. That as long as we do our best things will work out. She's more than often right. Her patience is infectious enough to make even me calm down, even if it's just a little, and see things through. She can sense danger better than I can and that's saved my life at least once. But her greatest asset is her cheerfulness in the rough days. Sure, it's annoying at times when I just want to feel miserable for myself; but at others it's a comfort. Sunny people make sticking it out easier to bear.

And boy, have we seen our share of strain. It's just been one disaster after another with this nerdy freak--not that it's his fault . . .but I hate to see Milly when she's stressed and unhappy. She feels more deeply than I do, or can at least show it better. When she gets outraged it's always about a just cause . . .or pudding. I envy her for that. I can't show such soul, only petty annoyance.

I'd be lying if she still doesn't not annoy me once in a while. I may be the spokesperson of our little duo but it's _Milly _everyone gets along with, _Milly _they make small talk with, _Milly _who's known as 'the nice one' while I'm 'the bitch on wheels.' From the very start Vash always treated her with more thought and kindness--but why not? I admire that kindness as well. Such a big heart.

The thing that hurts me the most, and it's been troubling me for some time now, is I think Milly is setting herself up for a big fall, a painful one. She's so optimistic, believing at the very worst that people are sometimes just plain mean, that evil isn't permanent and will pass, that matters of the heart can conquer anything (I say it's bull myself but I don't dare tell her so). I've seen the way she looks at that priest. What in _hell _makes him so special to her? Can't she get a clue? Doesn't she see the shadows on his face? That huge freaking cross he hauls around and _shoots _at people with? Milly is so much more observant than that. Is she deliberately ignoring what's right in front of her face? If she does realize it, why is she doing this to herself?

It'd be so much easier to help her if he was cold and mean to her. But he's not. I've seen his looks too; he watches her out of the corner of his eye behind those cheesy sunglasses all the time. I've seen how warm and flirty he is with her. It's all genuine. Even his eyes get lighter when she's around except when they start smoldering with less-than-priestly emotions. Milly doesn't understand why they do that, but I sure do. Gah. He can be such a sleaze. Between him and Vash's stupid pick-up lines . . .and Milly's still so innocent.

Sometimes I think Milly is so spacey because she knows that there're bad things out there, bad feelings, bad people, and if she doesn't know about them then they won't hurt her. That defense won't last much longer. She's going to get hurt so badly one of these days. More badly than most people would because she has nothing to protect her besides that innocence. I can't stand it.

When something does happen I won't be able to do anything about it. And that hurts me. It hurts me. Not just because I failed my duty, it's because Milly is the last person know, alongside Vash, that deserves to have their goodness stripped away and all their efforts come to absolutely nothing. Milly and Vash . . .they're the kind of persons evil people love to torment and kill. The innocent and good always die first.

Ugh, maybe I'm getting too depressed after all that's happened. Perhaps I'm underestimating her. Milly can show a determined streak at times that I never saw when we worked at the main Bernardelli office. I shouldn't project my own fears onto her. No. I'll have faith in her and in Vash to get us all through this without too much pain. Wherever we're going and whatever gets thrown down won't break her.

It wouldn't hurt to be cautious, though, since I can't shake this feeling no matter how badly I want to. She'll need someone to fall back on.

She won't protect her heart, so I have to do it for her.__


	3. Chocolate: Wolfwood

The final one in the series. I guess it's not much of a surprise about who it is, is it? I always worry about keeping them in character. It drives me MAD!

After thinking about it, I've decided the story rating is going to go up due to Wolfwood's filthy, filthy, un-priestly mouth. He doesn't say anything too terrible but the cusses are pretty liberally used. Bad Wolfwood! No biscuit! Oh yes, one more thing about how Wolfwood talks. I am using the Kansai-dialect Wolfwood so that's why his grammar and pronunciation are so funky in this.

Shh. Sit real still. Now take a deep breath. Do you smell that? That's the sweet scent of FLUFF, my dears. This will be somewhat romantical in nature. I admit I'm biased; I love this couple! If you have any objections then you can just…ummm…go to the Infernal Kuroneko Pens of DOOM. Yeah.

Thanks to everyone for the nice reviews! I admit that I was surprised I even got more than five. Thanks so much! And here's a hug back for you, ATO. Milly fans got to stick together! :HUG:

Enjoy or else. The black kitties are hungry in their pens and I can always switch off the electric fences…

WOLFWOOD

Looks like Vash's attention's bein' occupied by the Short Girl. They seem to be talkin' civilly to each other for once, wonder of wonders. Maybe Milly's right about her bein' sweet on him: that's either really nice or downright freakishly scary. Speakin' of which . . .I'm not gonna just gawk at those two when this is a prime opportunity for some quality time without Shorty breakin' us apart. 'Professional behavior' my ass. I go back towards our fire where she's sittin,' eyes closed like she's dozin', so I walk up nice and easy and thump down next to her. She gives a start and gives me a fake glare. She starts movin' away from me inch by inch. I follow her. Suddenly she stops and starts scootin' towards me; I go the other way 'til we're back in our original place and she's giggling like crazy. She's just leavin' me so many openings tonight. I make a grab for her face, give her cheek a soft pinch before takin' her hand.

Heh. There's that blush. God, she's such a cutie. It's kinda strange, actually, 'cause I never went for cute that much. I guess it's the way my tastes run. I've seen lots of women who were just as if not more attractive in the looks and attitude departments--not that Milly's a woofer, hell no! She's got this real sweet face, long oval shaped and a little plain but fresh an' just . . .natural, with one of the cutest noses I ever saw. She's got three little freckles all in a row right across the bridge, perfect for kissin'. And her body, hooya! Too bad she wears those heavy clothes all the time. Wouldn't even know how good she's built if she didn't like to get drunk time to time. Alcohol is God's finest gift to this dust ball. Of all those things, I'd say her prettiest feature's her eyes. Yeah yeah 'windows of the soul' and all that poetic crap but it's true. Clearest blue I'd ever seen, the exact color of the sky right near the horizon. God. Talk about poetic crap.

They say that attitude is half the battle of bein' attractive. I say hallelujah to that. I'm not normally taken by the goody-goody girl routine 'cause it's so often just a cover: the closer you get the less nice they are. Or else they're nothin' _but _nice all the time. That's no fun either. My Honey, her niceness's all genuine. She has a sweet, an understated kind that doesn't come on too thick. And boy does she know how to have fun. Big Girl can sure hold her own in the drinkin' the department_--_too bad she doesn't get to do it more often, not with her little watchdog making it her life's mission to make sure we have as little fun as possible. It's a shame she can't cut loose as much as she could, but when she does she shows a happy playfulness that I like. I've seen her at her maddest, too, and I'll say I've seen much worse so it's no problem. Wouldn't want to be on the business end of those punches of hers, though. Vash tells me they hurt like hell. He had it comin' to him so he ain't gettin' any sympathy from me.

So here we are, sittin' together all quiet-like. She hugs me around the waist with an arm. It feels real good. I begin to imagine what it'd be like if there was a house--maybe added on to my orphanage--of our own behind it, big enough for at least seven kids. Sextuplets and one for good measure, Honey. They'd all be asleep and we'd be sitting out in front to get some quiet times just for ourselves, nothin' to worry about 'cept the usual humdrum domestic stuff that looks like a picnic compared to what I've been through. Vash and Shorty'd be nearby too. Yeah. That'd be real nice.

Jesus, what the hell am I thinking? That vision, that one thing I want most of all, I can't have that. God himself can't do that for a guy like me. And never, never ever has a girl caused me to think things like that. To be a normal guy, to be a _real _preacher, hang out with my buddy and come home to a peaceful place with her and lotsa kids. Regular folks always complain about how boring their lives are, but I say the hell with 'em. They don't know jack.

Milly gives me peace. Bein' with her makes me forget everything that I've done and maybe, just maybe, I can change for the better. I wonder what went wrong with me, for me to be feelin' emotions people with shitty lives like mine shouldn't ever have. Her face is so soft and she looks at me with no judgment or smugness. Not at all like Vash. They're so alike. Vash--that idiot needle noggin', I hate bein' around him at times. I feel all this shame, I see everything I hate about myself. Goddamit, I know that I'm no good compared to his all-holy 'I've never killed anyone' bullshit. Ain't it enough that he hasn't got any blood on his hands? Why does he have to rub it in, force me to be like him when I don't got a chance in hell of doin' that? I'm only a frickin' human after all.

The bitch of it is, I _want _to be like him. If not for me and for him, for her, to be the kind of guy that can be worthy of what she's givin' me. I feel so damn guilty almost all the time, yet when she's around I don't feel that way anymore. Her eyes are so warm and don't hold anythin' against me even for what I've done. She's gotta at least suspect, right? She still doesn't give me any conditions. With Vash there's conditions. He's so damn pushy, always preaching to me about some fantasy world that I wish could exist but know it can't. He doesn't see that. Damn frackin' idealist. Milly's one at heart too, I think, but she only applies it to herself. I can live with that.

Why does she do it? She gives me so much and promises to give lots more. I don't have anything to give her back 'cept my pathetic excuse for a soul and whole hell of a lotta baggage she doesn't need. What the hell does she see in a guy like me and how's she able not to expect stuff of me that she should?

I tried to ask her that a little after we met up again at the sand steamer crash. We were both so glad to see each other that we went for a walk after supper even though the winds were pickin' up. We went to the cliff overhanging town an' just sat there, not talkin' or anything, for the longest time. She has the thicker coat so she'd wrapped it around us both, happy as a lark she was. I couldn't stand it. I asked her why the hell she wanted me around when she deserved a nice guy. A guy like Needle-noggin, for example.

She just laid her head on my shoulder, not lookin' at me. Then she asked in a soft voice, "Mr. Priest, um, Nicholas, do you believe in Grace?"

I wasn't expectin' that question so I didn't answer right away. Finally I said that I wasn't sure exactly, not havin' experienced it myself in my lifetime in spite of my profession.

"Well," she said, "I think there's something in that. I take a kind of middle road. I think that just being a good person and helping others is very important. But I know we can be pretty mean to each other too, even good friends. I believe there is something out there's some part of us that forgives and loves no matter what we do. Or else we'd all be hermits!" After gigglin' she looked up at me. "You give out a lot of Grace, Mr. Priest." She musta felt me stifle my laugh because she continued without missin' a blink, "Now, now, don't be like that. I really believe it with all my heart! Your kids owe lots to you and you've helped us out so much when you didn't have to. I--everyone loves you for it. But you've had such a hard life. Nobody has shown you grace, haven't they? But you deserve it, you really do. You won't forgive yourself."

Heh, if she only knew. "Well, Mr. Priest, you may think what you want and you need to find your own inner peace on your own. But I'll tell you this. Inside you're so much better than you think you are. Just like you are, right now. This's you. So no matter what, I'll always forgive you! Mr. Vash too!" Next thing I knew she gave me a smooch on the cheek, then turned back to look at the sky as if nothin' had happened. I was so thrown for the loop I lost my big chance to flirt with her like I'd been wantin' to do. We didn't say anything else. For that evening, though, I felt lighter than ever and almost believed that I could resolve everything. The events of the next day blew that all to hell. It's still a nice memory, one of my favorites. She does that to me.

It's a damn big risk I'm takin', however. I shouldn't have gotten so close. Now she's tangled up more in all this mess than she was when she was with just Needle Noggin'. It's dangerous. Nowadays I can't sleep well because I feel that they're comin' closer. They won't hesitate to hurt either of the girls if it serves them, especially if they know how attached we are to them. I think Midvalley knows. I know that mind-rapin' bastard Legato knows, can't hide much from him. I can protect her from the Hornfreak if he's given the order to attack but I'm not sure about Legato. If Legato even deigns to play fair and come out in the open. Sneaky freak. I can only swallow my pride, pray that Vash can protect them where I can't.

As much as I want it to, I can't help but think that it can't last. I wanna be with her, with them, for the rest of my days; the hitch is that my days ain't that many. I get along with everyone fine now, yet still that time's gonna come when either my assignment gets changed or Vash pisses me off so much I shoot him myself. And then what'll she think of me? No, it can't last. Oh crap. I didn't say that last thing out loud, did I?

Aw shit. Aw shit. She looks like she's gonna cry or somethin'. I'm no good with cryin' people, never was and never will. I hate seein' that look in her eyes. Goddamit. So I do what I do best around her: I give her a little poke under the ribs, chuck her chin, an' make up an excuse for what I'd let slip, that I wasn't thinkin' about the future. Good, there, she's stopped the waterworks but she still can't force up a smile yet. I don't know what to do. All of sudden somethin' in my head says that if I have any chance of at all at changin' things for the better, to get to be what she deserves, then with her help--all their help--maybe I can do it. While I think that, I see a smile suddenly come across her face. That's a lot better. She's so damn cute when she does that. Come on, Honey, gimme a kiss.


	4. Combo Pak: Milly!

_A/N: Ah ah ah! ::thunder clap:: You thought I was done with this thing? NO! Here is a special bonus chapter--this time from Milly's POV, showing her perspectives on the other three that went before her. Set in the two year period after the Fifth Moon incident. It's a bit different than the others, but that's just the way I think Milly works.She's so happy!_

_Also, prepare yourself for more W/M FLUFFY TREATS at the end. I can't help it. Sing their praises! It's speculation and other authors have done it (this was especially influenced by two certain chapters coldchik's wonderful AU Insurance Gal fic "Thompson and Stryfe"--go read it if you value your kneecaps) but I always liked the idea that while he was searching for Vash in those two years, Wolfy made the occasional stop in December. And maybe he'd meet up with Milly, and then…::rubs hands:: Behave yourselves, you two!_

_Hope you enjoy!_

BONUS: MILLY

In my little apartment I have lots and lots of pictures, whole albums of them, more than anybody I know can shake a stick at. Senpai's eyes bugged out the first time I showed her my place because, she said, she'd never seen so many pictures in her entire life. Well, that may be true, since I don't know anyone in December who has such a large family back home as I do. They send me new pictures in the mail constantly; my youngest nephews, nieces, and cousins are just growing up so fast they have to get their photos taken for every occasion. It's so nice! I put them all up neatly in the albums, numbering them by date, and I make sure not to put them in crooked. Not very many of the pictures are taken by me, though. I can't get my hands on a camera very often since I don't have one myself; I can't afford one. But in some of the towns I've been to, if the people are nice, the local newspaper'll lend me a spare. They're usually kinda crummy and the pictures aren't the best but as my Daddy says, "Beggars can't be choosers."

Living in December--the big city!--is nice and exciting, but that can't cover up how lonely I feel sometimes. Senpai is great, I'm well _liked _at the office, but . . .I actually don't have that many friends. Just good acquaintances. And the work is so boring there! "Thompson, file this! Thompson, wire that!" When I screw up or come in late (I'm doing that more often now, I really hope Mama doesn't find out please God?), Chief puts me on window duty. I actually like that better, sad to say. Until we got the Mr. Vash assignment, that was the funnest part of the job! Oh why oh why didn't I sign up as a janitor?

Speaking of the Mr. Vash assignment . . .not every album I have is of my family. When Senpai and I started out traveling together, I decided that I would take pictures myself for a change. I don't have a huge number, just enough to fill one book, but it's my favorite. It's on my knees right now, it's slender and has a really pretty green leather cover. I guess I don't know why I have it out since we're not on the assignment anymore; I just wanted to look at it.

Let's see. I open up to a page. Hee! It's a picture of Mr. Vash after a party; he has that silly tie around his head and looks happy and green at the gills at the same time. He never was very good at holding down liquor, was he? He usually ended up getting sick all over himself, poor guy. I was born with a separate stomach just for beer and whiskey, don't you know, so I rarely get sick after I drink too much. I feel woozy and Senpai says I do some awfully embarrassing stuff, yet I've never had huge headaches or stuff like that. My folks always said I was the luckiest of the bunch. I always feel sorry for people who can't hold it in--and poor Mr. Vash always looks a sorry sight the morning after a party. I wonder where he is right at this moment--I just can't think that he's dead somewhere. Nobody can get the best of Mr. Vash.

Ah, Mr. Vash, now, he's my hero! He's so wonderful. He can do such amazing things; just like Senpai said, he's touched people where they've never been touched before. He's never killed a person and doesn't ever want to do so, and I think that's so nice. Most of the time he looks happy and goofy; I know he's got a beautiful soul. Still--now that he's gone, now that I've had time to think about all our adventures together, I think that Mr. Vash isn't nearly as happy as he let on. I remember one time he stopped playing with these kids, which he never does because I know he loves to play with children as much as I do, and then he just stopped right in the middle of our game. He stared off in the distance. His eyes, they were so . . .empty and sad at the same time. I'd never seen that look before. Then in the jail, I swear that his eyes were glowing. How could they have done that? Maybe I'm wrong. I hope I am. Despite what mean people say, Mr. Vash is no demon! But all that sadness, and what happened at July . . .why, sometimes I don't know what to think of him. I do know that no matter how scary he may _seem _at times Mr. Vash is good and sweet. Senpai and Mr. Priest say that that's very rare, not to want to kill anyone. Maybe it's not so rare-- I like to think he must have had someone who loved him very much and brought him up well. Just like me! Hee! Lots of my photos of Mr. Vash here are pretty funny. I should call it the "Big Book of Blackmailable Vash." Nah. That's too mean, it'd make him die of the shame. But this picture's so funny, I think I'll give it to Senpai as a gift; she'd like something to remind her of him, I think, even if he looks not at his best. Maybe it can make her feel a bit better. She's been so sad lately.

Here's one of just Senpai alone. I have the most photos of her; she takes the best pictures too. She's smiling up from her typewriter, all pretty and clean in her nice white outfit. I wish I could wear nicer clothes like Senpai can--I'm just too big for things like that. Mr. Vash's seen it and he said that it scared him that Senpai was smiling so nicely in it. Well, Mr. Vash's a special case. Senpai is really one of the nicest people you can ever meet! Really, she is. She's been very kind to me ever since we met and always treats our co-workers at Bernardelli with respect. But to do our job well she's had to be kind of mean occasionally, and with some of those, those…jerks, you have to show some teeth! So Senpai's a bit hard on the outside; that doesn't mean she isn't sweet on the inside. And it's the insides of the people that make you love them. Senpai has always been there for me. I'll never tell it to her face, but she can be a little pushy…and she doesn't seem to like it when I figure out things before she does…but she always means well. She keeps me from doing stupid stuff when I'm having too much fun. I don't know how many hangovers Senpai's had to nurse me through over the years. She was so nice to me when I first starting working at Bernardelli, too, not faking it like lots of the others were. Senpai is one of the most genuine people I know. Maybe that's another reason why people don't take as kindly to her: she won't kiss up to them, tell them just what they want to hear. She certainly gives it to Mr. Vash! Maybe Senpai's too hard on him sometimes, at least I think so, still my Middle Big Brother always says it's better to worry about people and show that you really do care than to just ignore them. She takes good care of me and makes me feel less lonely when I'm away from home, like the little big sister I need. She's the only one of my December friends who celebrates my birthday. The others say that I won't get an office party until I've gotten seven years tenure. What's that all about? Senpai doesn't mind bending the rules for me. She's the best!

I have only one picture of Mr. Priest--Nicholas, I mean--and I'm afraid it's not that great. He doesn't look happy at all. He's at a bar drinking something of a shot glass that I don't think I could handle, which is very rare don't you know! He's kind of frowning and his eyes look so hurt and surly. He's never looked like that around me except the time we helped Moore and Julius escape. He was sitting all alone in that bar; nobody should be alone! I sat down next to him after I hid the camera in my coat. Nicholas tells me he doesn't like his picture being taken and I wonder why. He says it's because he doesn't want to be reminded of what he looks like and he can't smile for a camera, but I say that that's a strange answer. Nevertheless, I do what he asks and I haven't taken another since. Even so, this picture is my very favoritest. Because you see, while I've never outright admitted it, I like Mr. Priest. I like him a lot. Tons. Maybe even. . ._oodles? _Despite that frown on his face in the picture, I think he's awful handsome in it. I like his nose the best. I bet you thought I was going to say eyes, weren't you? Well, I think his eyes are the most gorgeous things I've ever seen, but it hurts for me to look at them sometimes, they can be so intense, especially when he's mad. I hope he never looks at me like that. I suppose they'll take some getting used to--they'll probably become my favorite after more time has passed. But for right now it's his nose. I just love the way it swoops out. Not your conventional nose that's for sure, so I think that's why I like it.

But why am I looking at a picture when I've got the real thing? I was so happy today when I saw Mr. Priest's motorcycle (you can tell it's his because of the crosses on it) in the street today! I waited to see him, and when he came out I couldn't speak for a while. I gave him the biggest hug, asked him where he was staying. He said he didn't have a hotel yet. Then I did something I've never done with a guy before: I asked him to stay with me, since it'd be for free. I offered him the bed but he refused, saying that the couch would be fine. We went out to dinner, had a great time, got a few drinks, and now here we are! Mr. Priest looked pretty shabby, though; it made me worry, and the way he just inhaled everything on his plate . . .Why doesn't he take care of himself? Why can't he like himself? I know that Mr. Priest has something bad in his past, something he won't tell anyone about--it's just such a shame, because _I_'d listen to him. I want to make him feel better. I guess he doesn't know that. I've never really said anything to him. I know I can be an awful chatterbox sometimes, but I know that silence is good, too. It's good to just sit back and think about things sometimes, not say much . . .perhaps I'm being too chicken or too discreet…

A door closes behind me and I hear Mr. Priest's footsteps. I let him use my shower because he was all dusty and--rude as it is to say it--kinda ripe. I turn on the couch to smile at him; he's dressed but he's still rubbing at his hair with a towel. It's a bit shaggier than usual. I should send him to a barber or cut it myself.

"Do you feel better?" I ask him brightly. I always get chirpy with him around.

He nods, sitting next to me. "Oh, yeah. Thanks for everythin', Honey. It was a stroke of luck, findin' ya here."

"You shouldn't have been so surprised," I wag a finger at him. "You knew Senpai and I live in December." I pause--what's that smell? He doesn't smell as dirty as he used to, but he doesn't have that smoky-cologne smell I'm used to. I try to take a small sniff, but he still hears it.

"The only things you had in your shower were the girly stuff," he grumbles, frowning. "I needed to wash my hair."

"You smell like you fell into a bucket full of tulips," I sing. I just have to tease him; I think he's so cute when he gets flustered. He doesn't break a sweat when he hauls that big cross of his (right now stored in the corner), but put a dab of sweet smelling shampoo on him and BOOM! Instant blush! So cute! He's squirming in his seat, not looking me in the eyes. I notice that his chin's still scragglier than normal. "Why didn't you shave? I wouldn't have minded you using my razor."

"Honey," he growls, his eyes finally fixing on me, "I am _not _going to use a lady's razor to shave."

"But it has a safety bar! You won't get cut!"

"Honey," he groans, drooping his head into his hands--they're so big and rough. "You're killin' me."

"Okay, I'll stop. But tomorrow before you go, we have to buy you some more supplies. I'm not going to send you back out there so you can starve again!"

"Duly noted, Honey. Hey, what's that?" He points to the album in my lap.

"This? This is just something I started when Senpai and I went after Mr. Vash." I show him the pictures and pretty soon we're both laughing over them. I tell Mr. Priest stories from before we met him and he swaps some of his in exchange. I forgot how funny some of them could be! I even managed to get a shot of Senpai practically strangling Mr. Vash in a headlock; I forget what the whole argument was about, but there they are, Senpai's face all red and Mr. Vash with buggy eyes, looking right to pass out.

Ah, memories! I wish they could all be this nice.

I look up from the book to see that Mr. Priest has gotten closer to me. I feel a weight on my shoulders and find that he's put his arm around me, and I never even noticed! Oh, Mr. Wolfwood, you're a smooth operator. I like it, though. I'm always too shy to call him up on it, but it'd be nice to see if he really likes me as much as I like him. He sure acts like it.

He points to the picture of him and his smile isn't as strong. "You still have that old thing, eh?"

"Yes. I'd like to keep it, if you don't mind. It's the only one I have."

He sighs. "I suppose so."

I blush a little, screwing up the courage. "Would you like one of me?" There aren't many photos of me in this album, of course, since I was the one who took most of them, but there's one or two. I flip through the book and find one of me and Senpai standing on the front porch of the house of that old couple we helped in New Arcadia, the ones who had that bad son. It's a nice picture; we're both smiling and hoisting our coffee mugs in the air. "Here. This one."

He looks it over. "It's a fine one, Honey, but act'ally I'd like to have one of you solo."  
My pleased blush deepens a little; I hope he doesn't see it. "I'm sorry. All of the ones of me alone are at my family's house. This'll have to do. But tell you what: I'll write home and ask Mama to send me one of myself, and the next time I see you I'll give it to you!" I nod stoutly as I take out the picture and give it to him. He takes it up, looks it over real closely, holding it close to his lips. He smiles, putting it away into the inside breast pocket of his jacket.

"You think there'll be a next time, Honey?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure of it! I don't know how exactly, but for some reason I get the feeling I'll be seeing you again," I say. He leans in close to me, pressing his cheek to mine.

"Then I'll take you up on that, Big Girl," he says, voice low and right next to my ear. Next thing I know we're kissing each other, cuddled up real close. It's very warm. Something inside me makes me want to commit this time and place to my mind because it says that there might not be very many chances like this and I need all the memories I can get; besides, memories are better than pictures, anyway.


End file.
